


Acciaccato

by frostandcrow



Series: Espansivo [5]
Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Angst, Arguments, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Juno's life is good, Juno's new home is good, Juno's relationship with Peter is good, M/M, Space Heist, emotional hurt with more explicit comfort, it's not always sunny in space, physical hurt with little actual comfort, relationship difficulties, so of course the other shoe is gonna drop, suicidal ideation/discussions of suicidal ideation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-18
Updated: 2019-05-18
Packaged: 2020-03-07 06:29:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18867622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frostandcrow/pseuds/frostandcrow
Summary: The crew deals with a literal explosion and the metaphorical ones that follow.





	Acciaccato

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is a bit heavier than my previous ones. Please see “End Notes” for trigger warnings and PLEASE let me know if there’s anything I should tag as a warning.
> 
> EDIT 5/18/19: I am SO sorry, but I messed up my initial upload of this fic and didn't realize until just now that the italicized words didn't import over. This has now been fixed, it should read a bit better/more fluently, and the author has learned a valuable lesson about looking over stuff after posting it and NOT posting things around midnight.

“Would you please hold this for me, Juno?” the Big Guy asked.

 

“Sure.” Juno took the small, cuboid object while Jet attacked a slightly larger object with a screwdriver. The small object was heavier than it looked. “What’s this thing do, anyway?” he asked, holding it close to his face to better scrutinize its shiny, unblemished surface.

 

“That is one of the blasting caps.”

 

Juno quickly moved his face to a safer distance from the item in his hands. “Y’know, that would have been great information to have _before_ you handed me it.”

 

“Juno, we are currently assembling the explosive devices that we will need for tomorrow. I did not think that you would require me to inform you that everything we are working with here is extremely dangerous if not handled correctly.”

 

Juno supposed he had a point. However, on principle, he replied, “Yeah, but there’s a difference between knowing that we’re making bombs and knowing that you’ve been handed something that could blow your face off.”

 

“You are not incorrect, however, I believe that it is common sense to assume that, while doing the former, one would surmise the latter by default. Now, will you please hand me back the blasting cap?”

 

“Yeah, yeah, you’ve out-logic’d me again. Why don’t you pick on someone your own size?” Juno grumbled good-naturedly, carefully handing the object back and watching as Jet fit it into one of the slots in the larger object he had been working on. 

 

Without warning, the bay door of the ship behind Juno started to open. Juno turned to face it, casually placing his hand on the blaster at his hip and seeing Jet do the same. They relaxed when they saw Buddy and Peter start to ascend the on-ramp that had lowered. 

 

Juno tensed again, slightly, when he saw the expressions on their faces. “What happened?”

 

Buddy looked at him in slight confusion as she hit the controls to close the bay door. “Nothing off-script. We were able to place the data chip successfully. Why do you ask?”

  
“You both look like someone called you amateur pickpockets or something.” He watched as Peter strode away without a word and then looked back at Buddy, eyebrow raised pointedly. 

 

She sighed. “Just a disagreement.”

 

“Uh-huh. No offense, Buddy, but if you’ve managed to get Aleph to resort to the silent-treatment, I’m thinking you guys had more than just a ‘disagreement.’”

 

“Call it what you like, Juno. The matter has been settled.” There was an edge to her voice that strongly recommended that Juno drop it. For once, he listened to that instinct. He and Jet watched her stalk away in silence. Juno couldn’t help but note that Jet looked worried as well.

 

——————————————————————————

 

It was several hours before he and Jet finally finished with their preparations for the next day’s plan to put McNeil’s space-station-slash-weapons-development-facility into the star it was orbiting. Unfortunately, they were called to a team meeting before Juno had the chance to seek Peter out. 

 

The meeting was perfunctory and short, whatever disagreement there had been between Peter and Buddy seemed to color the general mood for the entire group. Dinner, similarly, was a somber affair and the crew quickly dispersed afterwards. 

 

Juno followed Peter back to his room, the latter still uncharacteristically quiet. Juno belatedly realized that there was a chance that Peter wanted to be alone. “I can go if you…y’know…” He said, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. 

 

Peter, who had his back turned to him, seemed to catch Juno’s implication anyway. He stopped rifling through his drawers and stood still for a moment, not turning around. Finally, he let out a sigh and the tension in his shoulders dissipated somewhat. “No, Juno. That won’t be necessary.” 

 

Juno felt relief, which was quickly overshadowed by guilt at this selfishness. “No, actually, I think I should go—“

 

“Juno, wait,” said Peter quickly, turning around. “I did mean it; I would like you to stay.”

 

Juno looked at Peter closely. He did seem genuinely distraught at the idea of Juno leaving. Feeling a bit less insecure, Juno moved to sit on the edge of Peter’s bed. 

 

Peter massaged his temples, eyes closed, and continued, “I’m sorry. It was a difficult day and I have spent too much time inside my own head.” He exhaled, straightened his shoulders, and said, resolutely, “I would very much like to hear about your day.” 

 

“Uh, there’s not much to tell. Jet got the bombs for tomorrow ready while I did my best to avoid making them go off a day early.”

 

“Mmm, sounds thrilling.”

 

Juno snorted. “Yeah, real edge-of-your-seat stuff. I hear they’re gonna make a stream about it.” Peter laughed lightly, but didn’t otherwise reply. Juno watched as he took off his jacket and started pulling items from the pockets, squirreling them away in various containers and shelves in an uncharacteristic display of restlessness. 

 

“What’s going on, Nureyev?” Juno asked, taking care to keep his tone light.

 

“Hmm?”

 

“You’re antsy. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you-as-Nureyev antsy before.”

 

“Me- _as-Nureyev_?” Peter asked, tone suddenly icy. “What are you trying to imply, Juno? That this is another mask? Another fictitious persona that I just don when the mood strikes?”

 

Juno physically recoiled backwards. “What? No! God, Nureyev, I didn’t mean it like that and I’m pretty sure you know it. And, you lashing out like that only proves my point: something is bothering you. We don't have to talk about it if you don’t want to, but if that’s the case, just _tell_ me to back off instead of trying to pick a fight.”

 

Peter seemed to collapse into himself slightly. “You’re right, Juno. That was completely uncalled for. I apologize.”

 

“It’s fine.” Deciding to change the subject, Juno half-faked a yawn and stretched his arms over his head. “I don’t know about you, but I could do with an early night. From what I hear, it’s gonna be a big day tomorrow.”

 

“Juno, it’s barely seven-thirty.”

 

“Oh? Huh. Maybe one day I’ll learn to tell time, just like you.” He shot Peter his most shit-eating grin as he stripped off his hoodie and dropped it carelessly to the floor.

 

“Well, you know what they say: it’s good to have lofty ambitions,” replied Peter, the corner of his lip twitching upwards. Juno relaxed a bit at this and continued to strip down to his underwear. Peter watched him, a hint of uncertainty in his expression. “But I was being serious, Juno. This is too early for bed. Even for me.”

 

“Well, in that case, _grandpa,_ I’m sure we can find…something else to do?” Juno said, reveling in the feeling of being on this side of the innuendo for once. He ran his fingers lightly over his waistband. 

 

Peter grinned. “You know, I’m confident that we can.” 

 

——————————————————————————

 

Some time later—and a bit closer to a reasonable bedtime—they lay in Peter’s bed, quiet save for their slowing breathing. Juno luxuriated in the heat coming from Peter’s torso as it lay draped half on top of him from where Peter had collapsed a few moments prior, his mind occupied only by the sensation of  Peter’s thumb stroking his shoulder rhythmically. 

 

“I should move,” said Peter eventually, voice muzzy.

 

“Nah. ’S nice.” 

 

“Trust me: we’ll regret it if I don’t.” Juno hoped the noise he made when Peter left the bed didn’t sound as whiney as he feared. Peter chuckled softly and leaned over to kiss him on the forehead before disappearing into the bathroom.

 

Several minutes later, they were both cleaned up and back in bed. Just as Juno was about to doze off, Peter said, softly, “Buddy and I had an argument earlier today.”

 

Juno made a neutral noise and patiently waited for Peter to continue. 

 

“Our current plan, as it stands, is quite risky. I asked that she reconsider the initial plan we had developed.”

 

Juno rolled over onto his elbow, studying Peter’s face. “Seriously? Nureyev, we talked about this. Having Rita hijack their navigation system to surreptitiously pilot the station past the point-of-no-return and into the star would kill everyone on the station.”

 

“Your point?”

 

“My _point_? That _is_ my point. Does it really need to be said?”

 

“Juno, the people on that station are responsible for _decades_ of suffering for _millions_ of people across the galaxy. _You_ were a victim of their technology, or have you already forgotten that month you spent stranded in a prison on an Outer Rim planet? Saving the galaxy from further terror would be worth the price of several dead bodies.”

 

“Jesus, Nureyev, don’t tell me you honestly believe the ‘needs of the many’ argument is a valid one. Yeah, some of the people on that station are war criminals, but, on a station that size, there are others whose only job is to cook, or clean, or run maintenance or whatever. Those people are no more guilty than those who’ve been victimized by McNeil’s weapons.”

 

“They’re working for war criminals.” Peter’s tone was implacable. “They knew the risks when they signed their employment contracts.”

 

“Oh my god. I can’t believe you’re saying this. Can you really blame a person who’s just trying to  earn a decent wage for what evils their bosses get up to?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Juno felt the blood drain from his face. “Peter. You can’t possibly mean that.”

 

Peter, scrubbed his hand over his face. “No,” he sighed, tiredly, “I don’t.”

 

Juno studied Peter for a moment before asking, “Where is this coming from?”

 

Just when he thought Peter wasn’t going to answer, Peter said, quietly, “It’s too risky. I know that the crux of our current plan requires that the the station’s imminent demise be obvious enough that their personnel will know to evacuate, but _we_ still run the risk of being stranded on an incapacitated space station that is slowly falling into its star.”

 

“Risky? Nureyev, this isn’t half as risky as some of our other jobs.” Then, softening his tone, Juno ventured, “Talk to me. What’s wrong?”

 

“It’s just…our plan almost guarantees that McNeil and his team will have ample means and opportunity to leave the station. Alive. What’s to keep them from rebuilding and continuing to create their heinous constructs?”

 

“Well, for one, they won’t have a work-shop to build anything in—”

 

“—Juno—“

 

“—and two, if they do rebuild, we’ll just tear them down again.” He met Peter’s eyes and continued, resolutely, “It’s the price we pay for not stooping to their level and, to be honest, it’s a price that I think is worth paying.”

 

Peter just stared at him, miserably. “Juno, how is it that you can remain so steadfastly noble.”

 

“It helps to have a healthy lack of self-preservation instinct,” he replied absently. Then, his tone growing serious, asked, “Is that what’s been bugging you? The fact that McNeil is probably going to get away?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Why?”

 

“ _Why_?”

 

“Yeah. Why? There are at least a handful of other evil maniacs out there who are actively terrorizing innocent human beings. Why are you so set on making sure McNeil gets what’s coming to him?”

 

He felt the sheets shift as Peter shrugged. “I suppose it’s a proximity issue. He’s the closest ‘evil maniac’ to us at the moment.”

 

“I don’t buy that for a second, Nureyev.”

 

Peter gave a frustrated huff. “Well, that’s hardly my fault.”

 

“Fine.” Juno dropped from his elbow onto his back and then tugged the blanket higher up his chest. “‘Night.” 

 

His surprise at the lack of contrite apology outweighed his disappointment as Peter remained silent and still. It was a long while before Juno was able to drop into an uneasy sleep.

 

————————————————————————

 

The space station was large and its halls were brightly lit. Juno, walking next to Peter and trying to keep his steps as soft as his partner’s, felt incredibly exposed. 

 

“Wait, boss,” came a voice through his earpiece. And then, belatedly, “And Mista’ Aleph.” Rita had hacked into the station’s security feed and was guiding their progress to one of the two engines that they had planned to rig with explosives. “Ya got some goons up ahead. Give them a minute and they’ll pass without seein’ ya.”

 

Peter and Juno dutifully stopped, instinctually moving closer to the wall, as if that would afford them any cover. After a couple of seconds, Rita gave the all-clear and they proceeded to the end of the hall, taking a corridor that branched off to the right. 

 

They walked in silence that wasn’t completely out of necessity; they had barely spoken a handful of sentences to each other since waking that morning, the awkward tension between Buddy and Peter now seeming to have extended to Peter and himself. 

 

They finally arrived to the engine room and closed the door behind them. Without a word, Peter stalked off to place his charges at the sites that they had all gone over with Jet earlier that day. 

 

Juno sighed internally and went to the other side of the room to place his own explosives. 

 

They worked in silence for a couple of minutes. Juno, down to his last charge, cast his eye about the room in search for its designated location. He swore when he located the spot.

 

“Archon?” he called, softly. 

 

“Back to last names, are we?” came Peter’s voice from right behind him, causing Juno to jump a bit in surprise. 

 

“Goddammit,” he said, placing his palm to his chest in a futile effort to slow his racing heart. 

 

“What did you need?” Peter asked, voice emotionless. 

 

Straightening, Juno replied, “My last charge needs to go up there.” He pointed to a ledge above them. “I can’t reach it.”

 

Peter wordlessly took the bomb from Juno and placed it onto the ledge, barely needing to strain to do so. 

 

“Look, Nu— _Aleph_ , are you okay?” The question had been nagging at him since that morning.

 

“Yes. Fine.”

 

“Yeah, clearly. Because you always speak in one-word sentences.”

 

Peter finally turned to look him in the eye. His expression was flat. “This is hardly the time or the place for such a discussion, Detective.”

 

“I know, I should have asked you earlier.”

 

“Perhaps.”

 

“Look, Buddy and I are worried about you—“

 

“—Oh, well, I’m glad to hear that the rest of the crew is talking about me behind my back—“

 

“God _dammit_ , would you _listen_ to yourself? We’re _worried_ about you. You’ve been…” he floundered for a minute, trying and failing to find the right word, “… _off_ since you and Buddy came onboard here yesterday. It doesn’t take a genius to realize that.”

 

“ _Worried_?” Peter spat, ignoring Juno’s main point, “Is that why I found a tracking device hidden in my pocket?”

 

“Ah.”

 

“‘Ah,’ indeed.”

 

“We had _no_ idea what you were planning to do! If you had just _talked_ to me—“

 

“I tried! Last night! You refused to listen!”

 

“No, I didn’t _agree_ with you. There’s a difference!”

 

At that moment, Rita’s voice cut into their earpieces. “Guys, ya got about three minutes before the next shift is gonna get there. Maybe have this conversation back on the ship?”

 

“An excellent suggestion,” said Peter, moving towards the door.

 

A surge of guilt hit Juno. “Look, Nure—Aleph, I’m _sorry_ , okay? I didn’t mean to…to piss you off.”

 

“I…had hoped to end this on better terms, myself,” he said, sadly, not turning around. 

 

“What—“ Juno didn’t have time to dwell in confusion at the _non-sequitur_ : as soon as his words left his mouth, Peter took off running for the door. Instinctually, Juno ran forward as well. However, Peter’s head start and longer stride allowed him to reach it before Juno and Juno watched as it slammed shut, leaving him alone in the room.

 

“Goddammit!” he shouted, trying the handle to find it had been locked from the outside. He banged his fist against the door in impotent frustration. “Rita!”

 

“Yeah, I see boss!” she said, sounding frantic. “I dunno what’s goin’ on between you two—“

 

“—Now’s _not_ the time—“

 

“I _know,_ Mista’ Steel. Just…hang on, the lock should be undone in just a sec…”

 

Juno heard the clang of a bolt being withdrawn. He turned the knob and threw his weight against the door, barreling out into the hall. “Where did he go, Rita?” 

 

“Uhh, to your left, boss.” Juno took off running. He passed a pile of unconscious people in uniform in the middle of the hall. He suspected that they were the group of security personnel that had been on their way to the engine room. It didn’t take a great leap of logic to guess who they had run into. 

 

“Where’s he heading to?” he panted as he ran.

 

“I dunno boss, he’s a couple of halls away, movin’ fast…ah!”

 

“What happened?”

 

“He just took out the camera!” Juno heard frantic typing and unintelligible muttering on her end.

 

“Well, get it back, Rita!”

 

“I’m tryin’ boss! It looks like he took all the cameras in that sector offline!”

 

“What about his comms?”

 

“That’s off, too!”

 

“Goddammit! Rita, patch me in to Buddy!”

 

“Okay!” More typing. “Alright boss, you’re connected!”

 

“Juno, what’s wrong?” came Buddy’s smooth, calm voice.

 

“Buddy, we got a situation here. Aleph just went rogue and ran off.”

 

“Where is he headed?”

 

“I don’t know,” he snapped. “He took the cameras offline.”

 

“Calm down, darling. We’ll find him. Rita, I’m patching you the frequency of the tracker that I placed on Aleph. I’d appreciate it if you could use it to locate him.”

 

“I’m on it!” chirped Rita.

 

“That’s not going to work, Buddy. He found the tracker.”

 

“Yes, I anticipated that he would. Fortunately, that’s why I placed a second one on him.”

 

“…oh. That’s actu—“ He was interrupted by a pair of security personnel that he almost literally ran into as he turned a corner. Their reflexes were fast, but his were augmented by the nervous tension that had been running through him since arriving on the station. A well-placed elbow to the nose, enhanced by his forward momentum, took out the first guard. His proximity to the first guard kept the second one from firing right away. Juno, having no compunction about firing his own weapon, hit the second guard with a stun blast. At such close range, he didn’t need impeccable depth perception in order to squeeze off an accurate shot. He was off and running before the second body hit the floor. 

 

“Boss? Boss, you okay?” He winced at the pitch of Rita’s voice.

 

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just had to take care of some company. Have you found Aleph yet?”

 

“Yeah, boss. It looks like he’s makin’ his way to…the labs?”

 

“Got it. Buddy?”

 

“Vespa and I are on our way. Juno, darling, I think you’re closer. Don’t let him do anything stupid.”

 

“I think it’s already too late for that,” he huffed, urging his legs to carry him faster. 

 

————————————————————————

 

Juno made his way as fast as he could down the corridors, following Rita’s directions. He knew he was headed in the right direction by the occasional guard slumped unconscious on the floor. In the back of his mind, he wondered how much longer their crew’s presence on the ship would remain a secret given the amount of bodies littering the place. 

 

As if the universe had been waiting for such a thought, he heard the brief blast of an alarm over the intercom before being abruptly silenced.

 

“Rita, what’s…going on?” he panted as he ran.

 

“Looks like someone initiated some security protocols, boss. I think they know somethin’ ’s up. I was able to quash the station-wide alert, but I’m not sure how much longer I’ll be able to keep ‘em from organizing.” 

 

“Figures. Buddy?”

 

“Yes, Juno?”

 

“I think it’s about time we blew the explosives we planted. Let’s get them to focus on something bigger than us.”

 

“You sure, boss?” Rita interjected. “You guys are still on the station!”

 

“Rita, it’s our best chance. If they’re distracted by a mass-evacuation scenario, I doubt they’d spend any effort in trying to find and capture us.”

 

There was silence across their comms channel for a few seconds. Then, Buddy said, calmly, “I think he’s right, Rita. We need a diversion.”

 

Rita made a sound of distress. “Oh, alright! But you guys better book it once ya find Mista’ Aleph. You got about an hour to get back to the ship before the station’ll hit the point-of-no-return and fall into the star.”

 

“Understood, Rita,” said Buddy. “Juno, status report.”

 

“I’m almost there…I think? Rita, is Aleph still on the move?”

 

“No, boss. He’s been in the same room for the last coupl’a minutes. You’re about two minutes away. Now, hang on to somethin’.” 

 

Juno, not wanting to spare a second, continued his headlong dash. He regretted this decision as a series of _booms_ rocked the ship violently, sending him crashing into the wall and then the floor. As soon as the world stilled, he was up and running again on unsteady legs.

 

“Everyone okay?” Rita asked timidly over the comms.

 

“Vespa and I are fine. Jet is telling her that we’re about five minutes away from Aleph. Juno?”

 

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He tried to ignore how much more out of breath he sounded compared to Buddy. 

 

“Should…should I send Mista’ Jet to meet you guys?” asked Rita.

 

“No, I need him to stay with you to have the ship ready for take-off as soon as we get back.”

  
“Yeah,” wheezed Juno, “and the fewer people we have running around on this death trap, the better.” 

 

“Okay,” Rita agreed, uncertainly. Then, suddenly, “Stop! Mista’ Steel, you’re right next to Mista’ Aleph! Do ya see ‘im?”

 

Juno skidded to a halt. He was in an empty corridor. Just to his left was a nondescript door. “No, but I think I know where he is.” He tried to handle to no avail. “Rita, there’s a locked door here. I need you to unlock it.”

 

“What? Mista’ Steel, do you have _any_ idea how hard it is to pinpoint a single lock mechanism in a giant space station without video feed to at least help me narrow the search?”

 

“You have my comms location and a blueprint of the station. How hard can it be?” His heart continued to race in anticipation even as his breathing slowed. He put his ear to the door, but couldn’t hear anything on the other side. Based on the station schematics he had reviewed the day prior, this section of the station was dedicated to R&D, but that didn’t help him determine if the room on the other side was a vast laboratory or a broom closet.

 

“‘ _How hard can it be?’_ he asks like he does stuff like this all the time,” Rita was mumbling under her breath, “as if he doesn’t struggle with turnin’ his own comms device on and off—there!” Juno heard a metallic clang resonate from the door, “Was that the door you needed, boss?”

 

Juno slowly tried the handle and felt it give. “Yeah, that was the one.” Then, lowering his voice, he continued, “Okay, I’m going in. Stand by…” His instinct to slowly open the door to maintain stealth was outweighed by the fact that, up to this point, he’d benefitted from having surprise on his side. With that logic, he drew his blaster and threw open the door. 

 

The _bang_ of the metal door slamming against the wall startled the group of people within. Juno, blaster leveled, took stock. The room appeared to be a middle-sized office with multiple computer terminals along one wall and a large, sleek desk across from the door. Half a dozen men stood in a semi-circle around the desk, blasters drawn and pointed at the two men standing  closely together, front-to-back, behind the desk; the one in back was holding a knife to the one in front’s throat. 

 

Though his eyes widened when he saw Juno standing in the doorway, the position of Peter’s knife did not waver an inch. “Juno?”

 

Juno kept his own blaster steady as a couple of armed personnel turned their weapons on him. Ignoring Peter, he addressed the room at large. “Sorry to crash the party, but I’m gonna need to retrieve our ship’s resident renegade. He’s late for his How to Work in a Team class.” As he expected, no one moved. He looked more closely at the man Peter was apparently holding hostage. “Okay, fine. How about an exchange? You give me back our homicidal thief and he’ll let your genocidal boss there go without a scratch.” A drop of blood belatedly dripped down McNeil’s neck. “Or rather, without a deeper scratch,” he amended.

 

“Juno, you have no say in any negotiations here,” Peter said, his voice sub-zero and his gaze imperious. 

 

Juno took a step forward, “Dammit—“

 

“Detective, stop right there!” Peter barked. There was an undercurrent of abject fear to his words that Juno had never heard before. He froze, mostly on instinct. “Now, as I was saying,” continued Peter, voice lowered and clearly addressing the man he held in front of him, “There’s something I want you to know before you die.” Then, he leaned in closer to McNeil and whispered into his ear. Juno watched as the latter, cradled in a grasp that was almost intimate, grew pale, his eyes wide with fear. 

 

“I…I thought you were just a myth.”

 

“I was. I _am._ Unfortunately for you, myths still retain the power to exact retribution. Goodbye, Opus McNeil. The universe shall be a better place with your absence.” 

 

Then, several things happened almost all at once. 

 

Peter’s eyes met Juno’s as he said, “Goodbye, Juno. I’m so sorry.” He punctuated the sentence by drawing his knife across McNeil’s throat, the arterial spray causing some of the armed security personnel to flinch backwards and the minority who had their guns trained on Juno to reflexively redirect their aim at Peter. Before anyone could fire, Peter held out his other hand, which held a small device that Juno recognized as one of their detonators, and clicked the single button on it.

 

Then, Juno was briefly aware of a violent blast of heat and light and sound before he lost all awareness. 

 

——————————————————————————

 

The next thing Juno became aware of was ringing in his ears and intermittent pressure on various parts of his body. Any curiosity he had regarding the source of these discomforts was a minor thing, easily ignored in favor of floating on in obliviousness.

 

A firm pressure on his eye, lifting his eyelid open, followed immediately by a searingly bright light forced him back into full awareness.

 

“Oh good,” came the calm voice of the person who’d been wielding the light. He groaned in relief as it was shut off. “He’s awake.” Then, louder, “You with us, Steel?”

 

“Maybe part of me?” he croaked.

 

He was surprised that he was able to hear the huff of impatience through the incessant ringing in his ears. He cracked his eye open cautiously. A green blur next to a red one swam in his vision momentarily before starting to clear. “Unfortunately, it looks like the smart ass part is intact,” said Vespa, who had moved on from tormenting his optic nerve to running her hands down his limbs. Thankfully, this didn’t seem to incite any stabs of agony that he, from past experience, associated with broken bones.

 

“Juno, did you see Aleph before the explosion detonated?” Buddy asked from where she was crouched next to Vespa.

 

“Ale—oh shit!” Juno stumbled to his feet, ignoring Vespa’s shout of protest. His vision greyed out at the edges and he was pretty sure the ground was listing severely to the side, but he doggedly continued towards the worst of the destruction. 

 

“Oh no,” breathed Buddy. 

 

“Juno, where did you last see him?” Vespa asked, sharply.

 

Juno, grateful that his crewmates were quick on the uptake, stopped and looked around. They were surrounded by heaps of rubble and bodies; none of the latter looked like the tall, thin, sharp-featured form of—

 

Juno’s eye caught sight of a familiar, long-fingered hand, the wrist it connected to disappearing into a purple sleeve that he recognized from that morning. The rest of the body was concealed beneath a pile of detritus. He rushed forward and started to dig the rest of the body out.

 

A firm grip on his shoulder interrupted his excavation attempts. He belatedly realized that this grip had possibly been preceded by Vespa trying to tell him something. It didn’t matter. He shrugged her hand off. “Get off me!” he snapped, trying to resume his digging.

 

The grip returned and this time he was bodily pushed away from where Peter lay buried. He started to attack—verbally or physically, he hadn’t yet decided—whoever dared stand in his way, but the look on Vespa’s face made him pause. “God _dammit_ Steel, I said stop. You’re going to make the entire thing collapse.”

 

“Dammit, Vespa, we don’t have _time_.”

 

“I _know_. That’s why we need to work as effectively and efficiently as possible. You hurling destroyed computer parts willy-nilly is neither of those things.” She placed a hand on his shoulder. This time, her grip was gentle. “Buddy and I will dig him out. I need you to sit here and monitor his pulse. Can you do that?”

 

Juno suspected that she was giving him a job in order to get him out of the way, but he had to admit that monitoring Peter’s pulse was a task that he was grateful to comply with. And, as he sat near the exposed wrist, feeling the fast, weak pulse through his fingers, he had to admit that Buddy and Vespa seemed to know what they were doing. Within minutes, they had the body unearthed. 

 

Peter lay sprawled on his stomach, unconscious but, thankfully, still breathing. 

 

Vespa did a quick assessment and then started to rummage through her pack. She pulled out  a  small cylinder that, when unclasped, rolled out into a stiff backboard. 

 

“Okay, Buddy, Juno, let’s get him on this board—carefully!—and get the hell out of here.”

 

———————————————————————————

 

Going by the dimmed lighting in the ship’s corridors, it was later than Juno had assumed as he left the cargo bay that he’d repurposed into a shooting range. He hadn’t intended to spend all evening practicing his marksmanship, but lately, the repetitive actions of loading his blaster, aiming, firing, and pacing across the bay to check his accuracy lulled him into such a meditative state that hours would pass without him consciously realizing it.

 

It wasn’t until he was halfway back to his room that his stomach reminded him that it had been neglected and wasn’t happy about it. Sighing, he changed his course and made his way to the kitchen.

 

He was passing through the dining area when a voice in the darkness said, “We missed you at dinner, tonight.”

 

“Fu—Jesus, Buddy, not all of your entrances need to be dramatic.” Juno used the hand not currently clutching his chest to flick on the light switch. A warm glow illuminated the space. 

 

“I’m sorry, darling, I thought you would have heard me.” She gestured at the disassembled blaster in front of her.

 

“Not with this damn ringing in my ears.” He continued his passage through the dining room and into the kitchen, the open design of the space allowing him to continue to converse with her over the bar.

 

“Did Vespa say if the tinnitus would eventually go away?”

 

Juno shrugged, pulling out ingredients for a sandwich. “‘Dunno. Haven’t asked her.”

 

“Juno—“

 

“Look, she’s had her hands full these past couple of days, alright? A little ringing in someone’s ears isn’t going to be anywhere near the top of her list of priorities.” He kept his gaze focused on his work. “Why’re you doing gun maintenance in the dark, anyway?”

 

Now that he was listening for it, he could hear the metallic _clinks_ as Buddy resumed her work. “I find it easier to do precision work when I use my mechanical eye. Working in the dark helps me cut out input from my organic one.”

 

Juno winced and looked towards the lights he’d just turned on. “Sorry.”

 

“Think nothing of it. I’m more offended by you absence at dinner.” She kept her tone light, but Juno doubted that she was making idle smalltalk.

 

“Yeah. Sorry. Lost track of time.” Sandwich finished, he leapt onto the kitchen counter and started eating. 

 

“And yesterday evening?”

 

“Yup,” he said through a mouth full of food. 

 

“I suppose, then, that you are unaware of of Vespa’s most recent update regarding Aleph.”

 

Juno shrugged, trying to maintain his dispassionate facade. “Last I heard, he was gonna be okay.”

 

Buddy looked at him with a gaze that left no doubt in Juno’s mind that she was seeing right through him. She put down the pieces of disassembled blaster that she’d been holding. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you about Aleph.”

 

“Ah.” Juno said, feeling trapped.

 

“While I don’t think I would be surprised by _you_ going off-script during a job—“

 

“—Hey—“

 

“—Aleph’s actions onboard McNeil’s station trouble me.” She met Juno’s eye, levelly. “A team only has room for one maverick. Two portends disaster.”

 

“Well, don’t worry, we’ll make sure we coordinate who’s on Maverick Duty for our next job.”

 

“Dammit, Juno, I’m being serious.” The volume of Buddy’s voice did not increase, but the edge had sharpened drastically. 

 

Juno actually found himself feeling somewhat chastened. “I don’t know what you want me to tell you, Buddy.”

 

Buddy sighed. “To be honest, I was hoping that you could tell me that Aleph acting in this manner was to be a one-off occurrence and not something I need to worry about or account for while planning future heists.”

 

“Sorry. Wish I could help, but my crystal ball’s been on the fritz lately.”

 

“If I was an effective leader, I wouldn’t need a crystal ball,” she replied, bitterly. Juno, shocked at this uncharacteristic display of self-deprecation, realized that she was angry with herself. He slid off the counter and moved around the bar to sit with her at the table.

 

“Y’know, I think we can solve this one without my shoddy ball—yeah, nope, that’s _not_ how that was meant to come out. Anyway, we just need to figure out _why_ he acted like he did and make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

 

Buddy studied him for a moment. “You know, darling, you have a gift for being simultaneously simple and profound.”

 

“Thank you…I think?”

 

“Oh, trust me, it’s quite the compliment.”

 

Juno fought down the urge to squirm in the face of such sincerity. “I think something happened when you two went aboard McNeil’s space station the day before we destroyed it.”

 

“Oh?”

 

Juno shrugged. “He was fine before you guys left and really touchy and prickly when you got back.” After a moment’s hesitation, he added, “We actually had a fight later that night.”

 

Buddy considered this for a moment. “I believe you may be right.” 

 

Juno, grateful that Buddy didn’t press him for details regarding his argument with Peter, asked, “So…what happened during your con?”

 

“That’s what I’m having difficulty determining. As far as jobs go, our efforts to masquerade as potential buyers of McNeil’s technology went as smoothly as I could have possibly hoped.”

 

Juno hummed in thought. “Maybe it’ll help to have an outside perspective? Walk me through what happened on the station.”

 

He listened without comment as Buddy described what indeed seemed like a well-planned, well-executed mission.

 

Juno mulled over Buddy’s account after she’d finished. “He was clearly angry by the time you guys made it back to the ship,” he said slowly, uncertain where this train of thought was going to lead, “When did you notice a change in his mood?”

 

Buddy thought for a second. “After we finished out meeting with McNeil, I suppose. On our way back to the ship—after it was unlikely that we would be overheard—he quite vehemently tried to convince me to change our plan back to the original one.”

 

“The one where we sneakily hijack their navigational system and pilot the station past the gravitational point-of-no-return?” Juno asked, recalling his conversation with Peter and feeling slightly sick. “The one that would have killed everyone on board? Yeah, I remember.”

 

“I reiterated why it was an unacceptable plan and that’s when he became quite angry with me. But, as for why he would suddenly vouch for such a violent plan, I’m at a loss.”

 

“In that room, right before he…right before the explosion, it seemed like he was after McNeil. Like it was personal.” He grew slightly more nauseated as he recalled the arterial spray gushing from McNeil’s neck, the expression of a man who knew he was a split second away from inevitable death still uncomfortably fresh in his memory. “Did anything happen during your meeting with him that might have given him reason to hold a grudge?”

 

“No, he was perfectly friendly and social.” Then, a thought seemed to occur to her. “You know, one thing seems a bit…uncharacteristic in retrospect. We needed access to McNeil’s server in order to place the data chip that allowed Rita and Jet to hack into their station’s systems. After McNeil had accessed those servers to show us some of his designs, Aleph’s job was to distract him in order to allow me to discreetly place the chip. He did this flawlessly, of course, but…he maintained the act much longer than he needed to.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“It only took me about a minute to place the chip, allow the virus to load, and then extricate it. Aleph continued speaking with McNeil well beyond this time frame, even after I’d given him the signal that I was done.”

 

“It sounds like he was really into the conversation. What were they talking about?”

 

Buddy’s eyes narrowed in thought. “I think…it was one of McNeil’s early projects. I wasn’t paying much attention initially. It…this may sound weird, Juno, but, I think they were talking about…gas?”

 

“Gas? Buddy, what the hell kind of conversation were they ha—“ He was suddenly struck by the memory of a distinctive laugh. 

 

He felt the pit of his stomach plummet. 

 

“Juno?”

 

He cleared his throat, “I, uh, what?”

 

“You were saying something?”

 

“Oh. I…sorry, Buddy. I…it wasn’t important.” He stood up and moved to push the chair back under the table, “I’m pretty tired. I’ll see you in the morning.”

 

“Juno, darling, you are a terrible liar, which, admittedly, adds to your charm but you clearly know something I don’t.”

 

“I…have a suspicion.”

 

“Well?” Buddy asked when he made no indication that he was going to elaborate. 

 

“Buddy,” he said, staring at his hands, which were gripping the back of the chair, “I think I know something that I _shouldn’t_ know.”

 

“Something that would explain why one of our crewmates would try to blow himself up?”

 

Juno thought of yellow owl eyes and a knife embedded in a broad back. “Yeah,” he said softly, “maybe.”

 

He braced himself for forthcoming questions, pressing him for answers that were not his to give. Instead, Buddy said, gently, “Juno, I trust you just as much as I trust anyone else on this crew. You do know this, correct?”

 

“Yeah, sure.”

 

“Juno.”

 

Juno looked up and met her eyes, which were utterly solemn. “Yeah, Buddy.” He was glad his voice remained steady even as he felt the familiar, squirmy undercurrent of _something_ that seemed to well up at the thought that he’d ever deserve such trust.

 

“Then please don’t underestimate the magnitude of this request: please, talk to him? It is quickly becoming clear that this matter is personal. _I_ need to ensure that something like this never happens again, however, I trust _you_ to speak with him about it. I don’t need to explicitly know the context or cause of his actions, just whether or not Aleph is likely to do something similar in the future.” 

 

It was such a simple request and one that he didn’t think Buddy needed to have explicitly made; he suspected that he and Peter would be having a Conversation soon, regardless. 

 

However, the responsibility that Buddy was placing on him in regards to getting to the bottom of…whatever this was…made him twitchy. It made him want to run. 

 

Being on a spaceship lightyears from the nearest inhabited planet, it made him feel trapped.

 

Buddy’s voice cut through his roiling thoughts. “Juno, I wouldn’t ask this of you if there was any way I could do it instead. And I certainly won’t ask you divulge anything personal. I just need assurance that Aleph is handling everything in a way that is healthy and sustainable.”

 

“Yeah,” he agreed, mouth going dry and lips going numb, desperately trying and failing to compose a glib comment about him clearly being the the best judge of optimal mental health. Instead, he found he could only say, “Sure.” He was distantly aware of pain in his hands. Absently, he looked down and saw that his knuckles had gone white with tension where they gripped the back of the chair.

 

Buddy stood up and walked around the table. “I know I am asking a lot, Juno. Please realize that this is a request, not an order.”

 

Juno couldn’t tear his gaze away from his hands. “Yeah, ’s fine.”

 

“Thank you Juno. Sincerely.” Her warm tone was accompanied by a warm hand on his shoulder. 

 

To Juno’s surprise, this grounded his frenzied thoughts somewhat. 

 

————————————————————————————

 

While they didn’t have formal visiting hours for the infirmary, Juno knew that Vespa would probably skin him alive if he went to visit Nureyev after his late-night conversation with Buddy. And, he had to admit that going to see Peter after a barely averted panic attack and with his thoughts still racing uselessly, it was probably for the best that he gave himself some time and space as well. So, instead, he endured a fitful night’s sleep and waited until mid-morning before he made his way to the infirmary.

 

Vespa, sitting at the desk near the door, looked up as Juno entered.

 

“Oh good. You’re saving me from having to track you down. Take a seat, Steel, we have some things to talk about.”

 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m sorry that I’ve been missing family dinners, mom,” he quipped distractedly, glancing quickly over at the figure in the bed across the ward before looking back to her.

 

“That’s not what I wanted to talk to you about, but, now that you mention it, I haven’t seen you at breakfast these past couple of days, either.”

 

“Well, don’t worry. I haven’t been starving myself.”

 

“Yeah, Buddy told me about your late night snacking adventure. She also told me that you’re still suffering from hearing loss and tinnitus. Now, sit down, Steel.”

 

“Dammit, does nothing stay secret on this ship?”

 

“Not when it involves the health of a crewmate. I never got a chance to check you out after the explosion and if you’re still having problems with hearing, I want to make sure you haven’t ruptured your tympanic membrane or anything more serious.”

  
Juno shrugged. “Ruptured my ear drum? Probably.”

 

“It sounds like you have firsthand experience with this.”

 

“Yeah. Got cuffed in the ear once during an argument. Took a while, but it healed up on its own.”

 

“Most small perforations do,” said Vespa, warily. Juno wasn’t certain if her dismay was due to his nonchalance at such an injury or the admission that he’d suffered from it before. “All the same, I’d like to take a look and,” she narrowed her eyes into a glower, “to make sure you’re not hiding anything else from me.”

 

“Vespa, you wound me. At this point, I’d expect you to trust that I probably am. But, can it wait? I need to talk to Aleph. Would you mind giving us whatever passes for privacy in this place?”

 

“Yes, I do mind,” she said, flatly. “He’s sleeping. So you can come back later or—“

 

A voice from across the room interrupted her. “Actually, Vespa, I’m merely resting my eyes.” Juno and Vespa looked over to where Peter lay, propped up by a mound of pillows. 

 

“See?” Juno pointed out. “So, how about that privacy? I promise, we won’t do anything stupid.”

 

Vespa snorted as she stood. “Fine. You have twenty minutes. And only if you promise to see me later about that ear.”

 

“Deal.”

 

Juno waited until the infirmary door had shut behind her before walking over to Peter’s bed. It was the first time in the four days since leaving McNeil’s dying space station—since helping Buddy and Vespa convey an unconscious, bleeding Nureyev back to the ship—that Juno had seen Peter. He looked…better than Juno had assumed he would: tired, pale, the pinched expression at the corner of his eyes and the stiff way he held himself speaking of the pain he was in, but awake and alive and talking. 

 

Even after discovering that Peter was still alive, Juno had been terrified that he would never wake up, that he would never have the chance to speak with him again.

 

( _And then,_ said a snide voice in the back of his mind, _when he_ did _wake up, you were too cowardly to actually take advantage of that chance._ )

 

“Glad to see you’re awake,” he said awkwardly, doing his best to ignore that internal voice. He took a seat in the chair beside the bed. 

 

“Yes, well, I’ve been awake for about two days now. I’m surprised you hadn’t come to see me sooner.” Peter’s tone was open and non-confrontational, however Juno couldn’t keep from inwardly flinching.    

 

“‘Awake’ isn’t the same as ‘Vespa won’t kill me if I disturb you.’’’ He knew it was a weak excuse. Thankfully, Peter seemed content to let it slide.

 

“My apologies, Juno, but I couldn’t help but overhear your discussion with Vespa. You’ve ruptured your ear drum?”

 

Juno latched onto this new, safe topic of conversation like a man reaching for a lifeline. “Probably. It’s not a big deal. How’re you doing?”

 

“Oh, just fine.” Peter adjusted the sling around his right arm. “I’ll be better once this tube in my chest comes out. Vespa is very adept at her job and I suspect that one is usually working under a time constraint when their patient is bleeding into their thorax, but this accursed thing is sitting right on top of a nerve,” he said casually, as if discussing the weather.

 

“When do you think it’ll come out?”

 

Peter shrugged his good shoulder. “She thinks later today, perhaps.”

 

“Oh, that’s…good.”

 

“Indeed.” They lapsed into silence. Peter watched Juno expectantly, seeming content to wait patiently for…something. Juno had no idea how his gaze managed to stay so sharp while on narcotic painkillers. 

 

Finally cracking under Peter’s quiet scrutiny—the silence only serving to amplify the echoes of that snide voice chanting the word _coward_ in his mind—Juno eventually admitted, “There was something I wanted to ask you.”

 

“I suspected.”

 

Juno cast about, struggling for a way to phrase his question tactfully. Finally, acknowledging that he’d never been especially skilled in that quality, he simply asked, “It was personal, wasn’t it?”

 

Peter looked confused. “I’m sorry?”

 

“The reason you were so determined that McNeil not leave his station alive. It wasn’t because he was just your typical garden-variety mass-murderer, was it?”

 

There was a pause as Peter studied Juno for a moment. “No, it wasn’t,” he eventually replied. “Though, given how confident you seem to be, I suspect you didn't need me to confirm your hypothesis.”

 

Juno shifted in his chair. “I…spoke with Buddy last night. She told me about the conversation you had with McNeil while you guys were undercover.”

 

“And? I recall that we had several conversations during that time.”

 

“She told me that you guys talked about something that sounded like ‘gas.’ I don’t think she knew it was an acronym.” Juno watched Peter carefully. His face remained impassive, but he had gone very still. “An acronym for the _Guardian Angel System._ ”

 

“How do you know about that?” breathed Peter. 

 

“I know because I saw it—“

 

“—You _saw_ it?”

 

“—in your memories.”

 

“Juno, what are yo— _oh._ ”

 

Juno looked down at his hands. “Yeah.”

 

“So _that’s_ the memory you saw?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“I see.” He paused, and then asked, “Why didn’t you tell me, Juno?”

 

“I don’t know.” Juno replied, feeling jittery. “Because it never came up?”

 

“It _never_ came _up?_ “ Peter repeated, incredulously. “Juno, something like this doesn’t need to ‘come up’ in order for it to be discussed!” 

 

“No, you know what, you’re right! I should have told you. I guess I was just struggling with how I’d start the conversation. Maybe something along the lines of ‘Hey, Nureyev—‘“ he felt ashamed as soon as he heard Peter’s angry hiss and he realized his indiscretion at using that name in a place one of their crewmates could wander into without warning, but he was unable to stop his diatribe. “‘—I’ve been meaning to tell you, remember that time we were nearly tortured to death and you used my sudden bout of unconsciousness and face-bleeding as a distraction in order to escape? Well, the memory that caused that? It was that time you stabbed your father-figure to death, saved a city, and became a myth. Anyway, just thought you should know.’” 

 

They stared at each other wordlessly for a long moment, the silence punctuated only by Juno’s heaving breaths. 

 

“Juno—“

 

Juno collapsed back into the chair he hadn’t noticed standing up from. “God _dammit_ Peter, I’m sorry, that was out of line—“

 

Peter cut him off, voice cold. “It was. And stop interrupting me.” He shifted so that he was sitting more upright, face remaining inscrutable. “We should have discussed what it was that you saw when you delved into my mind.”

 

Juno felt his temper, which had been doused in the aftermath of his tirade, flare up again. “Why? What good would talking about it have done?”

 

“Juno, you experienced one of the darkest moments of my life. You discovered a past—a secret—that _no one alive_ knows. I’d say that’s reason enough to discuss it, if only to let me know that’s what you saw.”

 

“Then why didn’t _you_ ask _me_? Hell, if you went digging around in my head, you can be damn sure that the first thing I’d do is ask what you saw!”

 

Peter’s voice grew colder, “So, to be clear, it’s your position that I’m at fault for being unaware of which of my secrets you’ve discovered.”

 

“What? No! Don’t put words in my mouth.”

 

“Then, please, instruct me as to where my logic has gone astray.”

 

Juno, realizing that they were both shouting, took a deep, calming breath. He wasn’t surprised when that didn’t seem to work. “Nur—Aleph. I’m sorry. I should have told you what I saw in your head, but between the torture, the fighting for our lives, the hotel and…after, there wasn’t a good time to bring it up. And I guess I assumed that if it actually mattered to you which memories I saw, then you would have asked. You never did. It was _your_ suggestion that I roam around in your mind in order to prove that I could trust you.  And I do. I trust you. Just as _you_ trusted me enough to give me free access to your memories. So excuse me for assuming that you wouldn’t care what it was that I actually saw.”

 

“Yes, going by the derision in your tone, I can tell that your apology is sincere.”

 

“For fuck’s sake, Nureyev, I’m trying to extend an olive branch here! I _am_ sorry. If I had known how much you cared about knowing what memory it was that I saw, then, trust me, it would have been the _first_ thing I told you when me and Rita boarded this tin can.”

  
“Detective, say that name one more time and I don’t think I’ll have the capacity to forgive you.” Juno detected a tremor to his voice that spoke of simmering rage beneath his otherwise frigid demeanor. 

 

Juno shoved down the instinct to snarl something retaliatory back, instead groping clumsily for something that someone able to maintain a stable relationship for more than a couple of months would say to their angry partner. “Aleph. I’m sorry,” he said, meeting Peter’s eyes and trying to infuse his voice with the contriteness that he did sincerely feel. 

 

He saw some of the tension leave Peter’s shoulders as he rubbed his face with his non-casted hand. It occurred to Juno that Peter looked more tired than he had when they had started their conversation. “Apology accepted, Juno.”

 

They lapsed into tense silence, Peter staring off into the middle distance as Juno realized that he still hadn’t gotten the reassurance that Buddy had requested, that Peter’s uncharacteristic and possibly suicidal actions were a one-off event—

 

His mind went suddenly blank.

 

 _Possibly suicidal._  

 

He hadn’t made that association—at least consciously—until that very moment. 

 

He couldn’t help but recall a room, deep underneath the surface of Mars, with a thick, metal door locking him on one side and Peter on the other while a bomb counted down on the only side of that door that would have been acceptable in Juno’s book. He recalled his resignation and relief as he watched the incomprehensible numbers tick towards detonation, amazed that the price of preventing the decimation of an entire planet’s human population—and of one human in particular— was merely the cost of his life. He recalled how _absolutely_ consoled he was by the magnitude of this accomplishment, achieved at such a low cost. 

 

He _knew_ now, of course, just how messed up he had been. He _knew_ that his life was worth more than a bargaining chip whose value only existed in death, even if he still had trouble at times _feeling_ it. He _was_ getting better, by inches and with occasional setbacks, but, dammit, he had survived and he’d be damned if he gave up now.

 

Now, Juno realized he was seeing the matter from the other side—from Peters’s side of that door in the Martian tomb, in a manner of speaking—and he was terrified. Terrified that a person’s appraisal of their own worth could be so dependent on whether they were alive or dead and that the man he loved had made it clear that he had found a situation in which “dead” was an acceptable price for that worth. 

 

A clear voice cut into his thoughts. “Juno?” 

 

“Huh?”

 

“You looked like you were a million miles away. And, it didn’t look pleasant, wherever it was that you went.”

 

“Oh. It was nothing. You look tired. I’ll let you get some rest.” He stood up, needing to get out of there. He wasn’t ready to have this conversation with Peter, not now, not with his brain churning with thoughts and emotions that he hadn’t had time to identify or classify, much less effectively articulate, and not so soon after that last argument with Peter a few minutes prior. 

 

 _Coward,_ repeated that small, nasty voice in the back of his mind. 

 

He found it harder to ignore it.

 

“Juno,” Peter said, reprovingly, “There is clearly something on your mind and, excuse me for saying, but I’d prefer that we discuss it now rather than wait several months and have it erupt in our faces. Surely, given the unpleasantness of the past several minutes, you can agree.”

 

“Okay, you wanna talk? Fine. Let’s talk. Let’s talk about double standards. Let’s talk about how I asked you why you wanted McNeil to die so badly the night before you blew yourself up and you danced around the issue. You talk about being me being open and honest with you and you won’t return the courtesy!”

 

As Juno grew more heated, Peter seemed to grow more frigid. “I tried, if you recall. We reached an impasse after you failed to acknowledge my reasoning.”

 

“No, you never told me your ‘reasoning.’ That’s the problem! You hid behind abstract, inhuman logic to convince me that a lot of people needed to be killed in cold blood!”

 

“Are you implying that, had I said, ‘Juno, the man who is responsible for the death of one—possibly two—of my family members is on this station and I cannot allow him to continue living,’ you would have changed your stance on the matter?”

 

“What? No! I mean, probably not, but that’s my _point_. You didn’t give me the chance—“

 

“And,” Peter said, cutting through Juno’s verbal flailing, “if I _had_ disclosed to you my real justification for wanting that man dead, would you have allowed me to even set foot on that station again or would you and the rest of the crew have endeavored to detain me for fear that I would do something reckless?”

 

Juno knew his response—his honest response—would only prove Peter’s point, so he remained silent.

 

“Ah. I see we have our answer.” Peter surmised. 

 

There were several retorts clamoring in Juno’s mind, begging to be unleashed. Instead, Juno asked the one question he wasn’t certain he wanted to know the answer to.

 

“And you were okay with dying in order to achieve this?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Juno felt the breath leave his chest, barely leaving him with the means to stutter a response. “P—Aleph—“

 

 “McNeil being dead is more important than me being alive,” said Peter, calmly.

 

“You…you can’t honestly believe that.”

 

“I certainly can. And I do. Don’t mistake me, Juno, my life is one of the things I value most. Knowing this, I trust you can conclude just how important it was to me that McNeil not live to see another day.”

 

“Why? For a _vendetta_?”

 

“ _Yes,_ for a vendetta! He killed Mag!” Peter shouted, hot fury replacing his previous icy impassivity. His hand went to his chest, eyes narrowed in both pain and rage. 

 

“No, y—“ Juno stopped as soon as he realized what he was about to say. 

 

Unfortunately, Peter knew how that sentence was going to end. 

 

“Detective,” he said, words carefully measured but with a faint tremor that Juno suspected was more from concealed fury than pain or weakness, “I suggest you leave. I’m done with this conversation.”

 

Juno stared at him, stunned, for a second before turning and leaving the infirmary. He nearly ran into Vespa on the way out.

 

“What the hell is going on? I heard shouting.”

 

Juno didn’t think he could have kept his voice steady enough to answer her even if he had wanted to. He brushed past her without a word, slamming his palm into the door’s entry pad to close it behind him. 

 

——————————————————————

 

The ship’s designated gym space was small but surprisingly well-equipped. It wasn’t a room Juno had much familiarity with or, until then, much interest in visiting. He therefore didn’t blame Jet for his brief look of surprise when the latter walked into the gym later that night.  

 

“Juno, good evening.”

 

Juno could only spare enough breath for a wheeze in reply. 

 

Jet walked across the room to place his towel and water bottle on a shelf. “That is quite the pace you are running at, Juno.”

 

“Uh-huh.” Juno wished he had the energy to put more sarcasm into those two syllables. 

 

“I am not sure it is wise to continue such intense exertion for too much longer.”

 

“Mind…your own…business,” he managed to reply.

 

“As you wish. Though I cannot promise that I will not inform Vespa if I believe you are bringing yourself to harm. Incidentally, she has informed me that, should I see you, I should tell you that you owe her a medical check-up and that she has very little tolerance for those who go back on their word. She appeared quite irritated as she said this.” Jet’s eyes flicked to the machine’s belt and then back up to Juno, significantly, “I recommend not giving her more reason to be upset with you than she already is.”

 

“Goddammit,” Juno gasped as he finally gave in and slowed his pace to a walk. 

 

“Are you starting an exercise regimen, Juno? I do not believe that I have seen you in our gym before,” said Jet conversationally as he started to stretch. 

 

Juno placed a hand over the stitch in his side and tried to slow his breathing. “Yeah, I…heard a rumor that…it’s good for you or something.”

 

Artfully ignoring Juno’s facetiousness, Jet replied, “Yes, I believe that there is merit to that statement and I commend you for making such a healthy choice.”

 

“Don’t get too ahead of yourself, Big Guy. I’m not sure I’m gonna want to stick with it. I forgot how much running sucks.”

 

“You are supposed to ease into it, Juno. If you like, I can help you formulate a reasonable and maintainable exercise regimen.”

 

“Maybe some other time.” Juno hit the button to stop the treadmill’s belt and stepped off onto stable ground. His legs, unused to an unmoving floor and weakened from what he grudgingly admitted was perhaps too strenuous of a run, started to buckle. He grabbed the treadmill rail to steady himself, hoping his near-collapse went unwitnessed.

 

He should have known better than to underestimate Jet’s perspicacity. 

 

Jet stopped mid-stretch and approached him. “Easy, Juno. Here, allow me to assist you to the bench—“

 

“I’m fine,” snapped Juno, jerking his elbow out of Jet’s gentle grasp. Jet retracted his arm, but otherwise stayed where he was.

 

“No, Juno, I do not believe that you are. You have been acting more strangely than usual today. You have snapped at almost everyone on this crew and some of the comments you made to Rita over dinner were very harsh indeed.”

 

Juno felt a stab of guilt at the reminder, though this was outweighed by indignation. “Dammit, I get lectured if I miss dinner and I get lectured if I show up. Tell me, Big Guy, is this game rigged against all the crew members or just me.”

 

“It is not a game, Juno, and I am not trying to accuse you of anything. I am merely expressing concern. Something is clearly bothering you.”

 

Juno started for the door back to the hall, saying as he left, “Yeah, there is. It’s tall, doesn’t believe in contractions, and is usually in a trench coat.”

 

He tried to ignore the shame burning in his chest as he stalked off to the showers. 

 

————————————————————————————————

 

While his run hadn’t been as cathartic as he had hoped, it had dispelled most of his post-argument edginess and the shower had gone a long way towards soothing his aching muscles enough that, back in his room and changed into a clean pair of sweatpants and oversized hoodie, he had a sliver of optimism that he’d be able to sleep. 

 

He had just crawled into bed when there was a knock at his door.

 

Unsurprisingly, it was Buddy. 

 

“Look, I get it. I was a dick and I shouldn’t have said that to Jet,” Juno recited as soon as he had the door open. “So, can we skip the part where you lecture me and tell me that I need to apologize to him first thing tomorrow? ‘Cause I’ve pretty much figured that out already.” 

 

Buddy looked unimpressed. “May I come in?” she requested.

 

Juno sighed and stepped back to allow her entry. “I guess that’s a ‘no,’ then,” he muttered.

 

Buddy shut the door behind her and took a seat in the chair at his small desk. “Juno, I’m not sure what you’re talking about, so you can drop your belligerent defensiveness.” She narrowed her eyes and said, “Though, if what you said to Jet was anywhere near as caustic as what you said to Rita at dinner, I strongly suggest that you make sure you are quite sincere when you do apologize.”

 

He sat on his bed across from her. “Yeah, yeah, my apology will be heartfelt. There may even be tears. Why are you here, Buddy?”

 

“Because I believe we have a problem and I’m worried that I may have made it worse. Vespa mentioned to me that she left you alone to speak with Aleph and, when she returned, you two were screaming at each other.”

 

“ _Screaming_ is a bit of an overstatement,” Juno mumbled.

 

“Whichever verb you chose to use, I believe my concern still stands.” 

 

“Fine. You’re concerned. Is that all you wanted to say?”

 

“No, and I believe that’s obvious,” Buddy said, keeping her tone non-confrontational. This irked Juno even more until she continued on and said, “Juno, please understand how this looks from my perspective. I had a crew member nearly—and possibly intentionally—blow himself up and then I asked another crew member—a man with whom, to my knowledge, he is in a relationship—to address this with him, which, rather than bringing closure, ended up possibly causing a rift in their own relationship.”

 

Juno felt suddenly very tired. “Look, Buddy, it’s not your fault. I’m pretty sure this was going to happen anyway.”

 

“Regardless, that’s why I’m here: I wanted to ask if there’s anything I can do to help rectify the situation. I admit that I’m being rather forward, but I know that the likelihood of you explicitly asking for help is nearly non-existent. So, Juno,” she said calmly, “what can I do to help?”

 

Juno just stared at her. She waited patiently for him to find his words. 

 

“I…don’t think there is anything you can do, Buddy.” He studied the floor and continued, “I don’t think there’s anything _I_ can do, either.”

 

Buddy made a thoughtful sound. “Maybe there’s nothing that you _need_ to do for the moment, darling. I find that time usually has great therapeutic value for most problems.”

 

Juno shrugged, “Yeah, sure.” He remembered his conversation with her the night prior and said, “For what it’s worth, we did talk about…what happened on the station. With the bomb. I…I don’t think you need to worry about Aleph doing anything like this again.”

 

Buddy let out a large sigh and closed her eyes, briefly.  “I’m not quite sure you grasp just how much of a relief it is to hear that, darling.”

 

“Yeah, well, glad to be of service.”

 

Buddy stood up and pushed the chair neatly back under the desk. “I’ll admit, the desire to try to reassure you with platitudes disguised as relationship advice is strong at the moment, but I don’t believe that they would help. That said, allow me to leave you with this one piece of advice.”

 

“Knock yourself out,” said Juno, stiffly standing as well—his muscles were going to hate him in the morning—and escorting her to the door.

 

“If you don’t check in with Vespa by tomorrow morning for the check-up you promised her, I can’t guarantee that I’ll be able to prevent her from visiting great physical and quite possibly existential harm on your person.”

 

———————————————————————————

 

It was still early morning—especially by Juno’s standards—by the time he had surrendered himself to Vespa for a medical exam (during which he was formally diagnosed with a ruptured right tympanic membrane; Vespa hadn’t appreciated his quip about being down half a working face) and tracked down Jet to apologize for his comment the previous night (while deftly dodging Jet’s offers to help exercise become part of Juno’s daily routine). 

 

However, he still had one item on his To-Do list. 

 

He stood in front of the door to Rita’s quarters, braced himself, and knocked brusquely. 

 

“Oh, it’s you,” she said upon opening the door, her uncharacteristically unenthusiastic tone hitting him like a punch to the gut.

 

“Yeah. You got a moment to talk?”

 

“Sure,” she said, stepping back to allow him to enter. 

 

He stood awkwardly in the center of Rita’s small room and watched as she flitted around, searching for items to put into her large handbag. 

 

“You’re going ashore?”

 

“Yup,” she replied, popping the “p” and not elaborating.

 

“I guess it’ll be good to get out and get some fresh air. Or, whatever passes for fresh air in a dome in the Outer Rim.” And, dammit, if there was one thing he was worse at than apologizing, it was small talk. And clearly Rita wasn’t going to give him a break. “Vespa said they were stopping so she could restock her medical supplies, but did you have any plans in particular, or…?”

 

Rita stopped what she was doing and just looked at Juno, eyebrow quirked, her mouth a flat, unimpressed line, and simply replied, “Yup.”

 

Juno, floundering, decided to just bite the bullet. “Rita, look, I know I said some really awful things to you yesterday—“

 

“Yeah, boss, you really did,” she interrupted as she crossed her arms over her chest.

  
“Well, I’m…I’m really sorry, okay. I wish I could say that I didn’t mean to say what I did, but…” he dragged his hand through his hair in frustration, “But, you deserve more than lame excuses. I told you a while back that I was getting better, that I wouldn’t resort to my old shitty ways of coping, and yet I go and lash out…” He realized he was rambling and stopped. He forced himself to look Rita in the eye and said, “I’m sorry, Rita.”

 

Her frosty demeanor melted almost too quickly to follow. “Nah, it’s alright boss. Not what you said—that was really rude, even for you—but I forgive ya. And, for what it’s worth, I’m proud of you. You’re workin’ on yourself and I think this is the healthiest I’ve ever seen you! And, about last night: we all make mistakes, boss. The important part is that we learn from ‘em.” 

 

Juno felt his face flush at such earnest openness. The urge to deflect it with a self-deprecating comment was strong, but he pushed it down and said, instead, “Yeah, well, thanks Rita.” 

 

He turned to leave when Rita asked, “Boss, somethin’ happened, didn’t it?”

 

“What?”

 

“Well, you usually only lash out like you did when you’re hurtin’. And, until we blew up that space station, you’ve been really happy, lately.”

 

“Just something stupid,” he conceded. 

 

“I dunno boss. For somethin’ ‘stupid,’ it’s clearly eatin’ ya up.”

 

“Fine, you wanna know? Aleph and I had a fight.” His pique faded almost as soon as it had come, and he added, numbly, “A…a pretty big one.”

 

“Ah. I suspected.”

 

“Yeah, small ship, small crew. Nothing seems to stay confidential,” Juno groused.

 

Rita sat down on her bed and patted the space next to her. “Did you try talkin’ to him ‘bout it?” she asked as Juno sat next to her.

 

He snorted. “That’s what started this problem in the first place. And he made it pretty clear that he was done talking to me.”

 

“Was it somethin’ you said to him?”

 

“Geez, way to dance around the issue.” After all his years of knowing her, he was still surprised at how direct she could be. “And, yeah. I’m pretty sure I didn’t handle our conversation as well as I could have.”

 

“What about Mista’ Aleph?”

 

“What about him?”

 

“Well, did he say anythin’ that hurt you?”

 

Juno pondered this for a moment. “I…dunno. I didn’t really consider it.”

 

“Boss, in my experience, bad arguments are never just one person’s fault. You’re always pretty quick to take the blame yourself, but ya gotta realize that, if you’re hurt n’ angry, he’s probably at least sort a’ to blame, too.”

 

“That’s a nice sentiment, Rita, but it doesn’t change anything.”

 

“No, but boss, I can tell you’re beatin’ yourself up over this and that there’s a good chance that you’re gonna try an’ shoulder all the guilt and blame and it’s gonna wear you down.” She reached over to rest her hand on his and said, very softly, “I was there when you did all that with Diamond, remember?”

 

Juno felt his throat go dry. “Yeah.”

 

“And, anyway, Mista’ Steel, I don’t know what you guys were arguing about, but, from what I know about him tryin’ to blow people up—includin’ himself—it’s probably pretty safe to say that Mista’ Aleph may have been feelin’ real ashamed and vulnerable. We all say stupid stuff we’re gonna regret later when we’re feelin’ those things. He’s a smart guy: he probably just needs to work through some things on his own for a bit. But don’t worry, things’ll work out in the end!”

 

Juno couldn’t keep the bitterness from his tone as he said, “This isn’t one of your streams, Rita. The universe doesn’t owe me a happy ending.”

 

“Hmmm. Maybe you’re right. But, boss, ya got ‘a figure this in, too: I don’t know Mista’ Aleph all that well yet, but I don’t think I’ve _ever_ seen someone adore you as much as he does—except for me, of course!—and I don’t think there’s much that could change that.”

 

“Yeah, well, you weren’t there. I… _we_ fought over some pretty heavy stuff. Stuff that…I can’t see us coming back from.” And, dammit, saying that aloud—hell, he hadn’t even let himself _think_ of that possibility before just then—he felt his throat get tight and his eyes start to prickle. 

 

“Oh, boss,” said Rita unhappily, tugging him into a tight hug. “C’mere.”

 

She held him for a long time. When he finally let her go, she allowed him to pretend that he hadn’t spent that time sobbing into her shoulder. She did wrinkle her nose as he wiped his face with his sleeve, but, mercifully, didn’t comment. 

 

“You sure you wanna stay behind?” she asked. “Miss Buddy was tellin’ me that this planet is pretty famous for their flowers. Most of ‘em are the size of a person!”

 

“Yeah,” Juno sniffed, relieved beyond measure at the change in topic. “Someone needs to stay with the ship and I think I’ve had enough of Outer Rim planets for a while.” He didn’t mention that his whole body was stiff and sore from his ill-advised foray into running last night and that the thought of spending all day exploring a new planet made his joints ache even more. 

 

“I don’t think this one’s gonna get attacked by a giant sky net, boss.”

 

“No, it better not.” Then, somberly, he added, “Just, be careful, Rita. I don't think I could overthrow an entire government to rescue you if something happened.”

 

“Boss, I have absolute trust that you’ll do whatever you could if it came to that. But! It won’t!” Her grin was so bright and confident that Juno didn’t think the universe itself could go against it.

 

“If you say so. I guess it’s just a day-trip anyway.”

 

“Exactly! We’ll be back by dinner. I’ll be sure to bring you back some flowers.”

 

“Y’know,” Juno said, unable to suppress a grin, “if the flowers are as big as you say, you might actually get Jet to use profanity when he has to clean out pollen from whatever vital ship components pollen gets into.”

 

“I guess ya got a point there, boss. Well, in that case, I’ll get you somethin’ else!”

 

“That wasn’t really my point, but that’s probably for the best.”

 

———————————————————————

 

Most of the crew had departed shortly after he had left Rita’s room. Juno savored a quiet cup of coffee, reveling in the near-complete solitude for the first time in weeks. Figuring that he’d take advantage of the lack of people who’d complain if he used all the hot water, he decided that a scalding shower would go a long ways toward helping his sore and stiff muscles.

 

As he turned the corner on his way to the communal shower room, he stumbled to a halt.

 

He had known, of course, that Peter had also remained behind. 

 

He hadn’t made any plans to visit the infirmary while everyone was gone, so he hadn’t expected to actually run into Peter. He certainly hadn’t expected to find Peter sitting in the hall, back against the wall, looking as if it was perfectly natural place to sit. 

 

Before Juno could turn on his heel and pretend he was never there, Peter looked over at him. “Oh. Juno. I wasn’t expecting you.”

 

“In the hall? Of our ship?”

 

“Well, more generally, on the ship at all. Vespa informed me that we’ve docked at Rheni. I had assumed everyone would be ashore by now.”

 

“Yeah, I volunteered to stay behind.” Then, curiosity getting the better of him, he took a few steps closer, asking, “Is there a reason you’re sitting in the middle of the hall?”

 

“Just admiring the view. Please, don’t let me keep you from whatever it is you’re doing,” he said, dismissively, turning back to look at the wall in front of him.

 

“Nice try, Aleph. I’m not stupid. Did Vespa clear you to get out of bed?”

 

“She didn’t specifically say I had to stay in the infirmary and she _did_ say that the bone sealant had set. There’s no reason that I should be confined to bedrest that I can see.”

 

Juno snorted and gingerly lowered himself to sit against the same wall, several feet away. “Yeah, except the excruciating pain that comes from walking on bones that are effectively still broken.”

 

Peter looked at him. “Why am I not surprised that you’d know this firsthand?”

 

“I’ve had my fair share of broken bones. Legs are the worst. Just because they’ve been internally stabilized by the sealant and can bear weight safely doesn’t mean they don’t still hurt like hell to walk on.”

 

“Yes. You have it all figured out. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” Juno watched as Peter used his left arm—the one limb that had escaped serious injury, if he recalled correctly—to push himself unsteadily to his feet. Then, keeping that hand braced on the wall, he started to hobble away from Juno.

 

Juno stood up—for once, more gracefully than Peter, but only just—and wordlessly walked alongside him.

 

“Was there something else you wanted, Detective?” Peter asked, testily. 

 

“Yeah. A shower.”

 

“Oh. Well, in that case.” Peter stopped and carefully turned around and started walking back the way they had come. 

 

Juno realized that the shower room had probably been Peter’s destination as well. “Don’t be ridiculous, Aleph. There’s more than one shower on this tin can.”

 

He watched as Peter stopped but didn’t turn around, remaining silent.

 

“Fine. Whatever,” Juno huffed under his breath, turning away from Peter to resume his trek to the shower room. 

 

———————————————————

 

He was mostly finished with his shower—at this point, he was merely standing under the hot spray, allowing the heat to work its magic on his various aches—when he heard the shower next to his turn on. 

 

Sighing, he turned the water for his stall off to conserve what was left of the hot water for Peter’s use. 

 

He hadn’t planned on lingering afterwards, however, he was still rooting around in his locker for a clean shirt when he heard the water in the second shower unit shut off. 

 

Still wrestling to get his second arm through its sleeve, he turned to leave in order to give Peter privacy. Despite his best effort, his eye still caught sight of the spectacular bruising across Peter’s exposed torso and he couldn’t help but gasp, “Jesus, Nureyev.”

 

Peter looked at Juno and then followed his gaze. “Hmmm. Yes, I suppose they are quite impressive.” He nonchalantly studied his own chest for a moment before gingerly sitting on one of the benches and starting to dry himself off. 

 

“Look,” said Juno, bracing himself for callous dismissal, “are you going to be able to make it back to the infirmary okay or do I need to prepare an explanation to Vespa as to why you collapsed in the hall?”

 

“I appreciate the offer, Juno, but I don’t see how either of those eventualities are your concern.”

 

Juno felt something inside him snap. “You know what? Fine. You want me to butt out, to leave you alone? Have it your way. Sorry it’s taken me this long to finally take the hint,” he snarled as he stomped out of the room, distantly aware of his still-stiff legs complaining about the pace. He made it to the next corridor over before sagging against the wall. The cool air was like a slap to his face, which still felt flushed from the combination of the warm humidity of the shower room and anger. 

 

He took a few minutes to collect himself before pushing off from the wall to go seek solace in a day spent working on his aim. 

 

———————————————————

 

Several days passed uneventfully. Juno spent his time working on his marksmanship, engrossed in a tabletop game Rita had brought back from Rheni that was essentially a two-person version of Venusian Snap Trap, and helping out with various minor chores across the ship. And, despite his reluctance, he allowed Jet to coax him into working out on a fairly regular basis.

 

Slowly, some of the stress and nervous energy he hadn’t even been aware of started to dissipate. 

 

He suspected part of this was also due to the fact that he hadn’t seen Aleph once since his own outburst in the shower room. Though no one else seemed inclined to discuss it at any length, Juno got the impression he wasn’t the only one Aleph was making himself scarce to. 

 

Then, one night at dinner, Peter shuffled into the dining room. All conversation ceased, the previously light atmosphere filling with tension.

 

He approached the last empty chair at the table and, rather than pulling it out to sit down, remained standing, hands loosely grasping the back of it. He cleared his throat. 

 

“There is something I would like to tell you all.” 

 

The silence that followed felt like a fragile thing. None of the crew said anything to break it.

 

 _This is it_ , Juno thought, feeling his mouth and tips of his fingers go numb. _This is where he tells the crew that it’s been great, really, but that his time with us—and his time as Aleph Archon—is over and he is moving on to bigger and better things—_

 

He felt a warm hand rest on top of his clenched one under the table but in his limited peripheral vision, he saw that Rita had not shifted her gaze away from Peter. With effort, he relaxed his hand to allow Rita to tangle her fingers through his and refocused on Peter. 

 

Peter was clearly using the silence to bolster himself. What he said next was said simply and without ceremony.

 

“My name…my _real_ name…is Peter Nureyev.” 

 

The corner of his mouth quirked up in a self-deprecating smirk, with just a hint of sharp teeth, though his eyes looked nervous and his hands had tightened on the back of the chair. 

 

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger Warnings:  
> \--Violent depiction of a murder via severing a person’s carotid arteries  
> \--(Arguable) suicide attempt  
> \--Discussions of suicidal ideation  
> \--Discussion of murdering a criminal in cold blood  
> \--Descriptions of several nascent panic attacks
> 
> So, the motivation for this fic came from a simple desire to explore what a significant argument between Juno and Peter would look like. I should have known that nothing with these two can ever be simple. I’m terribly curious to hear your thoughts on this. Also, please let me know if you notice any other errors or if there’s anything plot-wise that doesn’t make sense. I fear I haven’t had the best grasp on coherency (or a healthy sleep-schedule) lately…


End file.
